Prologue

I sat on my mother's right hand, my long, gangly teen legs crossed in front of me and my hands rested in my lap. My fingers twisted in the orange fabric, because that was the only part of my body I could fidgit without drawing the attention of the entire courtroom. It was freezing here, but my mother had insisted on my wearing no sleeves. What was her thing against sleeves, anyway? I wondered which would be worse: having enormous goosebumps running up and down my arms, or rubbing them to warm them up. I didn't have a chance to decide. The doors at the back of the courtroom burst open with unnatural force, slamming against the walls with a crack like a gunshot, and before I could even jump in alarm, figures flooded in through the now open doors. I couldn't breathe as I looked at them and took in their appearances. Deathly pale skin, fangs bared fearsomely, horrid red rings around their cold, lifeless eyes.

"Strigoi!"

Whoever had screamed aloud was soon lost in the panic that ensued. The entire courtroom burst into a mob of chaos, but all I could do was sit rigid in my chair as the Strigoi tore into the panicked royals. I watched as Melina Ivashkov was thrown against the wall and set upon by three Strigoi, her screams soon cut off with a sickening gurgle. Joshua Tarus was shoved to the ground only a few feet from me and he struggled wildly until a pair of undead fangs pierced his neck. He instantly went limp as vampire endorphins flooded his system, and all I could do was watch in paralyzed horror. Where were the guardians?

And then they were there, as if summoned by my mental question. They dove fearlessly into the battle with stakes drawn, wading through the sea of death and doling out their own eternal sleep. A flash of white off to my left caught my eye and I glanced sideways as my mother rose from her throne, the crown resting on her head seeming out of place in this blood-stricken scene that had sprung up so quickly. Something flashed in her hand and I realized it was a stake, but not just any stake. It was spirit-charmed, something my mother herself sort of patented, and it could bring Strigoi back to their original form. Not only that, but it prevented them from ever becoming Strigoi again. She was instantly surrounded by her guard, who had remained on the stage to protect her against the attack, and they waded into the tumult, dealing out death wherever they went.

As I scanned the crowd of vampires, one Strigoi in particular caught my eye. It wasn't like he was special in any way; he wasn't oddly tall or short, abnormally thin or muscular. No, he was the kind of person who, if you saw him in a crowd, you wouldn't give him a second glance and you'd forget him in the very next instant. What drew my attention to him was the fact that he wasn't fighting. He was simply weaving his way through the heaving bodies, parrying any blow that came his way but not engaging in action combat. He was heading towards me. I could see it in the way his every move got him closer to the stage, the way his awful red eyes seemed locked on the stage- and me.

I flashed a panicked look around, but I was alone on the stage. All the royal guards were with my mother, protecting her while she sought out a Strigoi she could turn, and any other guardians had joined the fight. I was helpless, defenseless, and I was sitting here like a mouse under a hawk's gaze. No, scratch that, an eagle. I jumped to my feet and ran, but in the time it had taken me to realize I was the target, the Strigoi had reached the edge of the stage and, unimpeded by dhampirs and other Strigoi, he could move much faster. Still, I tried to get away, but I hadn't made it three strides before a freezing cold hand, even colder than the temperature of the room, yanked tight around my throat. I was crushed to a stone hard chest and immobilized before I could take a breath to scream.

And scream I did. A piercing, horrible, throat-rending scream born of pure terror and shock clawed its way past the hard arm pressing down on my windpipe, but a second later I couldn't even breathe, let alone scream. My head was yanked roughly to the side and fingers gentle as the brush of a leaf yet cold as ice brushed down my neck, making me shiver violently. A low chuckle rumbled from behind me, but there was no humor in it.

"Why hello, little Dragomir," the Strigoi purred, still stroking my vulnerbale throat, his next meal. I trembled violently in his arms, but I didn't try to escape. I knew I couldn't. "Now, now, don't be frightened. It won't hurt much at all. Just a little bite, and then you'll be in ecstacy."

"N-No," I choked past his arm, my shaking adding a stutter to my speech. The Strigoi laughed again.

"Poor little Dragomir," he laughed humorlessly. "You don't get a choice. You'll be one of us soon enough."

"What?!"

I hadn't seen this coming. I'd expected him to kill me, maybe snap my neck, but never this. I couldn't be a Strigoi. I drove my elbow backwards in the Strigoi's gut, but I only earned myself a painful squeeze at my throat, and I swear I thought he would crush my windpipe. But he didn't.

"You have no choice," the Strigoi snarled, his falsely sweet voice gone like my hope. A horrifed cry sounded off to my left, and I managed to crane my head enough to see my mother struggled through the crowd towards me. It was somewhat easier, because the guardians were in battle mode now and they were slaughtering their opponents easily. But she wouldn't reach me in time. I met her eyes and she knew it, but she kept going, that awful look of hopelessness and ferocity in her bright blue eyes.

And with that he bit into my neck. I cried out briefly at the pain, but soon the Strigoi endorphins, much more powerful than my own, flooded my bloodstream and I fell limp against the Strigoi, lost in a fantasy high. At first it was bliss, but he kept drinking. And drinking and drinking and drinking. He wasn't going to stop, but I didn't want him to. I wanted this high to last forever, just me and the bliss of his bite. Suddenly the high ended, and I was ripped away from the Strigoi and thrown to the side. I stumbled and tried pathetically to catch my balance, but I ended up hitting the ground hard, my skull smacking the floor. Still groggy from the endorphins, it was a struggle to even raise my head, but I managed it and saw my mother and a hoarde of guardians attacking the Strigoi, who's mouth was still stained red with my blood. My body wanted to shiver, but my brain was still numb, so I lay there propped up on my elbows, my head lolling whenever I forgot to support it.

Then there were footfalls behind me and then I was being lifted and my head was grasped in stony hands. I think the worst part was that when I felt the ice-cold of those hands, poised to kill me as they were, all I could think of was the bite. There was a sharp twist and a snap in my neck that I felt deep inside myself, and then nothing. For a little while, anyway.